


Desperate

by FalovesPa



Category: The Walking Dead
Genre: Gen, Glenn Rhee - Freeform, Maggie Rhee - Freeform, the walking dead - Freeform, twd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 15:22:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5132537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FalovesPa/pseuds/FalovesPa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nicholas has killed himself. Glenn is pinned under him, surrounded by an onslaught of walkers.<br/>It's over.<br/>There is absolutely no h-</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desperate

The growls and snarls were in Glenn’s ear, screeching into his soul. He felt the sounds on his skin, scratching beneath, clawing at every part of him.

The walkers tore at Nicholas’s lifeless body, ripping him open from shin to chin. 

Blood spurted like a fountain as they feasted on the bloody twisted loops that once were part of an intricate, wonderfully made system - a system Nicholas threw away with a single bullet to the head.

His face covered in blood, his body weighted down and wriggling beneath a destroyed body and a throng of starved demons, Glenn’s thoughts flashed to Maggie, and for the briefest nanosecond he saw all the pain his wife had already been through. 

From Hershel’s murder to Beth’s, from all the running and fighting and false hope and constant threats, to those snippets of stolen quiet and intimacy, Maggie was there - surviving, still loving him, still clinging to whatever desperate life they could make together in this awful world.

She - no one - would ever find him before he turned. It was pointless anyway.

There were too many of them. There was no hope.

“Like hell there isn’t.”

Glenn kicked and pushed and writhed, blocking the decaying attackers near his face with his elbows and with quick head butts, flopping Nicholas’s flayed limbs at them, throwing chunks of organs and muscle at them as if feeding a pack of wild dogs. 

He scooted until his back felt the sharp corner of the Dumpster. Long neglected, it was falling apart. And that was a very good thing.

His gun lost, Glenn groped the bottom edge for anything to use as a weapon. His frantic mind told him it was over, that there was no hope, that Maggie would eventually be OK when it became clear he must have become a walker.

The dead pulled on his pant leg, grabbed at his arms. Gray and yellow-crusted teeth clamped for his skin.

But his heart and body fought.

He pulled a jagged rusty metal strip from underneath the container and before his thoughts connected with his actions he sliced at anything that moved toward him.

Through skulls and dangling eyes and putrid mouths he stuck his closest attackers with the trash bin scrap as he scrambled to his feet and continued backing up, working around the Dumpster.

But there were too many of them. He was cornered, again.

The fence wouldn’t let him believe he could escape. The fence mocked him and his last ditch effort to stay alive and see Maggie again. There was no hope.

He looked to his right, his left, still swinging and stabbing, getting crushed between the dead’s chomps at his body and the fence.

Of all that groped and bit for him, the horror dressed in blood-stained sweatpants and a T-shirt was the most determined to lunge for Glenn by any means necessary.

Glenn couldn’t watch it. This really was the end. He turned his head, still defending himself with the metal despite the many teeth hungrily chomping for him.

And that’s when he saw it.

Underneath the sheet draped against the fence, there was a ragged gap.

Glenn slashed wildly through the monsters and dove for the opening. His technique, of course, was not precise, but coarse and dicey, just like his predicament. 

He howled as the metal tore at his back and as the dead caught up to his legs and grabbed onto them.

Glenn kicked and punched with all his might, beyond his might, finding faith and belief that would have made his father-in-law proud. 

As quickly as he could - which seemed like an eternity - scraping his body along the ground, ripping his hands into the asphalt with every grip forward, he was on the other side.

Glenn jumped up and examined himself quickly, aware but not quite believing that he was indeed still breathing and not bitten. 

His scratches were only from his fall off the container, its metal underbelly, the torn fence and rough pavement.

The metal weapon was at his feet. Glenn laughed and cried hysterically, loving the feel of his shuddering, living body as he picked up the scrap and spun around, looking for more dead coming his way. There were none.

But it was only a matter of seconds before the herd brought down the fence.

Glenn began running, not yet sure of what direction he needed to head toward in order to get back to Maggie.

The only certainty he needed was that he was alive, and with that, anything was possible.


End file.
